


Totality

by flaming_muse



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bottom Derek, Established Relationship, Lunar Eclipse, M/M, Top Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-07
Updated: 2013-08-07
Packaged: 2017-12-22 16:20:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/915369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flaming_muse/pseuds/flaming_muse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek’s body works differently tonight.</p>
<p>There are not really any show spoilers in specific, but there are some Teen Wolf world spoilers that come from 3x10 (“The Overlooked”) and are the inspiration for this piece.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Totality

**Author's Note:**

> So I got to thinking about what it would be like for Derek, a born werewolf, to lose his powers, and although it started in a very interesting direction about control and power my train of thought ended up drifting toward sex - as one does, you get it, it's fandom - and here we are. :D

Derek makes an usually low, harsh sound when Stiles slips out of him and collapses to the bed beside him, his limbs wobbly from his orgasm and his blood still pounding in his veins. He curls his arm over Derek’s back, kisses the sweaty nape of his neck, and says, “Ngg,” then takes a deep breath, swallows, and tries again. Talking after sex is surprisingly hard; he feels like somebody ought to have warned him about that.

“You okay?” he asks, petting down Derek’s spine. Derek’s trembling beneath his touch, a fine, delicate shiver instead of his usual post-coital sprawl of satisfaction.

“Yeah,” Derek says, though the way he tenses as Stiles’ fingers start to dip down to cup his ass makes it clear that he’s lying.

Stiles struggles up onto one elbow and looks down at him in concern. The faint light from the streetlight outside the window limns Derek’s body in beautiful swaths of pale skin and shadow, a body that Stiles very happily took his pleasure with tonight, a body that has let him in again and again over the months without complaint since they started doing whatever it is they’re doing, this having sex and hanging out a lot together thing. Whatever they’re not calling it, the important point being that it is without complaint. At least until now.

“What’s wrong?” Stiles asks.

Derek’s legs shift, one knee bending a little, and he makes a low sound again. “Nothing,” he says.

“Derek.”

“It’s nothing,” Derek tells him, turning his head to look at him, his one visible eye liquid-dark and vulnerable in the way Stiles still has trouble believing Derek will let himself be with him.

“Did I do something you didn’t like?” Stiles asks, barely able to get the words out, because, god, that’s the last thing he wants. That is in fact the _direct opposite_ of what he wants. “Because if I did, you just have to tell me. I know I get carried away sometimes, because you’re really, really hot, but if you just _tell_ me, I promise I’ll - “

“Stiles,” Derek says sharply, bringing him up short. His tone softens when he has Stiles’ attention. “I liked it.” His legs move again, and he cants his hips a little. “But remember what tonight is.”

Stiles looks out of the window despite himself at the moonless night. “The lunar eclipse.”

Derek nods. “I don’t have my powers. I’m not... healing the way I usually do.”

Stiles’ eyes widen in understanding, and he bends down again to curl around Derek in apology. “I’m sorry. I should have thought of that. I should have been more gentle. I should have used more lube than usual. I should have - “

“I _liked_ it,” Derek tells him again. “I can just feel it, that’s all. It doesn’t hurt, but I can feel it. It’s different. But it’s nice.”

“It’s nice,” Stiles repeats numbly, though honestly he doesn’t know why he should be so shocked, because he loves that awareness of having been fucked that he carries with him for a while after Derek’s inside of him. He loves the satisfaction of being happily fucked out, and he’s never really thought about what it must be like for Derek to lose that feeling almost immediately, for his body to seem to forget what just happened.

“Yeah,” Derek sighs out, spreading his legs even more and pressing his face into the pillow.

Stiles watches him for a minute, watches the rise and fall of Derek’s back and the gentle curve of his cheekbone, and then he presses his mouth to Derek’s shoulder and lets his hand start to move on him again. He strokes up and down his back, from the short hair at the nape of his neck down his beautifully defined muscles, edging lower with his sweep of his hand.

Derek’s breath catches as Stiles reaches his waist and moves upwards again, and he makes another soft sound on the next pass downward when the tips of his fingers just barely make it to the cleft of his ass.

“You can still feel me?” Stiles murmurs against Derek’s throat, and Derek nods against the pillow and holds his breath as Stiles’ fingers glide lower, his palm cupping the firm muscle of Derek’s ass, always a lovely spot to savor, before dipping between his cheeks again and finding that still-slick ring of muscle.

The sound Derek makes when Stiles pushes two fingers back inside is guttural and almost helpless, and his hands fist in the pillow beneath his head. He’s still slippery with lube and come, loose enough that there’s almost no resistance, just a tight, hot glide around Stiles’ fingers.

“Good?” Stiles asks, and Derek nods again and clenches around him, forcing another moan from them both. Stiles pushes his fingers deeper and mouths at Derek’s throat. His own pulse starts to stir and flutter, his body waking again. “I can get more lube.”

“No,” Derek says. “I’m okay.”

“I bet you can take more.” Stiles pulls his fingers out and rubs them along Derek’s cleft, slicking them up with what’s there before pressing three fingers into him. They sink in beautifully, Derek just taking them, letting him in, his muscles flexing around him like he’s desperately trying to feel every bit of Stiles inside of him.

“God, Stiles,” Derek groans, pushing back a little. His breath is coming out in hot pants against the bedclothes, and his voice has gone dark and rough.

“Does it hurt?” Stiles asks with a bit of concern.

Derek shakes his head. “Not in a bad way,” he says. “I can just feel - I’m more sensitive.”

Stiles rubs the pad of his thumb along the rim, where Derek is stretched around his fingers. “Here?” he asks.

“Fuck,” Derek agrees with a shudder.

Stiles knows just what it feels like, a little sensitive, a little oddly loose, and a lot amazing. He loves that. He loves that it’s almost too much, too good when Derek cleans him with a warm washcloth after Stiles bottoms, because every nerve ending is overstimulated and sings out with the contact. He loves not knowing whether to squirm away from the touch or into it, although the right answer is always, always into. He loves feeling stretched and open, like his body has just done something, not been used but been enjoyed. Maybe even a little loved, his mind whispers.

He leans closer and says, “This is what it’s always like for me. I can feel you for hours after. Sometimes I finger myself after I get home. I can’t help it. It feels amazing. It’s just on the right side of too much.”

Derek lets out a choked moan. “Stiles.”

Sitting back up and peering over his shoulder, Stiles checks the clock across the room. They’ve all been tracking the lunar eclipse for weeks, know down to the minute how long it will last, and have taken precautions accordingly. If having sex wasn’t exactly on the list of things for Derek to do during the eclipse to keep away from potential trouble while his powers were gone, it sure isn’t a bad way to pass the time.

He looks down at his fingers, buried deep inside Derek’s body, and twists them a little. They move smoothly, Derek clenching around him with a gasp. “Just the right side of too much for you, too?”

“Yeah.”

Stiles smiles a little to himself. “We have time,” he says, moving carefully between Derek’s spread legs and using his free hand to smooth up Derek’s muscular thigh and up to his perfect ass. “I could fuck you again before the totality has passed. Before you go back to normal.”

Derek’s eyes are dark and heavy with emotion as he looks over his shoulder at Stiles. He watches him for a long moment, not questioning so much as like he’s centering himself. Then he raises himself to his hands and knees and says, “Don’t hold back.”

Stiles nods at him and reaches for the lube, pulling his fingers out of Derek and jerking his own cock to get it back to full hardness. It doesn’t take very much, just a few fast pulls, with the gorgeous sight of Derek spread out in front of him, his to enjoy. Oh, and he will enjoy it, because there’s nothing not to like about getting to touch him.

Stiles drips lube onto his hand and slicks it over himself with a groan before spreading a generous amount across Derek’s hole. He’s not going to hold back, but he’s not going to hurt him. He’s just going to fuck him hard and deep, the way they both like it, and that’ll be enough. That’ll be enough for them both to feel how stretched and ready Derek still is, for Derek to know what it’s like to feel extra sensitive from the start, for Derek to feel well and thoroughly fucked, open and loose and taken, in a way he never can, because his body bounces back too quickly. And he’s going to let Stiles have that experience with him.

“Oh, god,” Stiles says at the thought, and he fumbles the cap on the lube and makes a bit of a mess on the sheets with it before he gets it back together. It doesn’t matter. It so doesn’t matter. “Oh, god,” he says again. He bites his lip, shuffles in on his knees, and rubs the head of his dick along Derek’s cleft. It stutters a little on Derek’s entrance, a horrible, wonderful tease, and he says once more, oh so helpfully, “Oh, god.”

“Stiles,” Derek says through gritted teeth, and then they’re both moaning as Stiles lines himself up and with hardly any effort just sinks in deep.

There’s no intense tightness and period of acclamation like there usually is at the start, no gentle rocking to work all the way in, just an easy glide and a snug, slick, perfect fit all around him.

Derek exhales like the breath has gone out of him, and his hand snaps around behind him to hold Stiles flush against him, deep inside of him. He clenches and releases once, twice, and presses himself back into Stiles that much more.

“Okay?” Stiles struggles to ask, because the part of him that most wants to move sure as hell isn’t his mouth right now.

His fingers digging into Stiles’ hip, Derek takes a moment. Then he lets go and says again with utter certainty, “I meant it, Stiles. Don’t hold back.”

Stiles laughs, joy-filled and reckless, presses a kiss to Derek’s back, gets his hands firmly on Derek’s hips, and begins to move.

They’re good at sex together, Stiles feels good at it with him, which is kind of a big deal, and the best part of it is that thinking about it is what it makes it awkward. So he tries not to. He does his research, he is smart and safe, and then he just goes with what feels good. And right now what feels good is digging his knees into the mattress, steadying Derek’s hips, and sliding into him, over and over, faster and harder, where he’s already wet and welcoming.

Derek is loud, eager, and lost to it from the very first thrust, caught up and uncontained in a way that he usually only is at the end, when he moves like a dancer and asks for everything with his body in the way he never can with words. Derek is taut with arousal, his muscles trembling and his skin covered with sweat almost immediately, and he fucks himself back with as much determination as Stiles is thrusting into him. He just goes for it as he digs his hands into the sheets and rocks back into Stiles’ body like he’s the wave and Stiles is the shore he needs to crash on.

It’s incredible. It’s overwhelming. After a few moments of utter wonder at what he must have done in some other life to deserve this, Stiles just lets go and enjoys it. He really, really fucking enjoys it.

Derek’s orgasm when he finally can’t hold back from it some time later is long and hard, his body bowing from its force and his breath growling out of him before he falls forward onto his elbows.

“This is how you feel _all_ the time?” he rasps out, his head dropping onto his arms and his body still quaking.

“Yeah, yeah,” Stiles says. His skin is on fire, every hair on his body is standing on end, and he fucks and fucks and fucks into him, chasing his own climax. “Isn’t is _awesome_?”

Derek chokes back some sort of sound, like he’s overwhelmed or unable to comprehend or has just figured out that tricky brain teaser in the Sunday paper he likes so much, and Stiles wonders for a second what it means before he comes and loses all power over his body and mind.

Stiles wakes even later flinching against a light in his eyes, and he cracks open his eyelids to find that it’s not Derek reading again in bed but moonlight streaming through the wide, bare window. A sliver of moon has begun to escape the eclipse.

Sighing, he turns his head to find Derek lying beside him, one arm propping up his head as he looks down at Stiles. He looks like a model, perfectly composed compared to Stiles’ messy starfish sprawl across the bed, but Stiles is used to the differences between them. They don’t bother him anymore.

“Getting back a fang or two?” Stiles asks, mashing the pillow beneath his head into a more comfortable shape.

Derek lets his eyes flash red in answer, and Stiles smiles at him. He reaches out to cup Derek’s head and pull him in for a little kiss that turns into something longer because Derek doesn’t pull away and Stiles sure isn’t going to stop. Kissing and touching are awesome, too, almost as awesome as the whole orgasms-with-a-partner thing.

Finally Derek lifts his head and looks down at Stiles, who has ended up on his back with the covers tangled around his bare legs and no pillow anywhere in reach.

“I’m healing,” Derek tells him in a quiet voice. He sounds sad about it, or at least bittersweet.

“Well,” Stiles replies, smoothing his hand over Derek’s broad shoulder, “there’s always the next eclipse. And there’s a lot to be said for your powers. Super strength, super speed, super amazing powers of suction.”

“My skill at blowing you doesn’t have anything to do with me being a werewolf,” Derek says with an implied roll of his eyes.

“The other two, then.” Stiles waves his hand airily, but he makes sure it ends up on Derek’s shoulder again, keeping them connected.

“Yeah.” Derek goes silent, and Stiles knows it’s his job to fill in those pauses.

“What was it like?” Stiles asks him. “Being without your powers?”

“It was weird,” Derek says, meeting Stiles’ eyes. “Different. LIke it wasn’t really my body.”

Stiles nods thoughtfully; it has to be so different for him than for Scott, who used to be human. Derek never has been, not fully. It’s not a return to his original state but something entirely new. “Yeah,” he says, leaving the door open in case Derek wants to say more; that’s Stiles’ job, too.

“But I liked it,” Derek says after a minute. “What we did, I mean.” He tips his head. “I liked feeling you after. The burn. The stretch. The mark of your mouth on my shoulder. I liked it not just going away.”

“It’s a little less convenient when you have to go sit on a hard chair at school right after, and every time you move all you can think about is getting back here to do it again,” Stiles tells him with a hint of a smile, “but yeah. I like it, too.”

Derek makes an affirmative sound, his gaze drifting upwards towards the moon. He looks at it for a little while, and Stiles looks at him, feeling loose-limbed and lazy after two rounds of sex and a nice nap. He’d go again if Derek wanted, but he’s just as happy to lie here and then maybe have some of that leftover pizza first. He’s not feeling all that desperate, and looking at Derek is nice. The silence is comfortable.

Finally, Derek looks back at him and says, “It doesn’t just go away, Stiles.”

Stiles lifts his eyebrows in question.

“I mean, my body doesn’t do what yours does, but - It doesn’t just go away, what we do. I remember. I think about it. It might not change my body, but it changes me.”

Stiles’ heart skips a beat, a literal beat, he thinks, and Derek must hear it, but his expression doesn’t shift. He keeps looking serious, like this is a huge confession. In a way it is, because letting someone in enough to change you is one of the biggest gifts you can give a person, and Stiles knows it’s harder for Derek than most... or easier, maybe, because he’s not great at guarding himself, but harder for him to want to do it.

Running his hand down Derek’s bare arm, Stiles tangles their fingers together and says, his heart full and happy, “I know that.”

Derek watches Stiles’ eyes for a moment before he nods. “Okay,” he says, the corner of his mouth lifting.

Stiles smiles at him and says, “Okay.”


End file.
